im at his nefarious goal:
evidently Western Union had been punctilious about his duty; not even
so much as the tip of a corner of yellow envelope peeped from under
the door.

Reckless in exasperation, P. Sybarite first wasted time educing a
series of short, sharp barks from the bell--a peculiarly irritating
noise, calculated (one would think) to rouse the dead--then tried the
door and, finding it fast, in the end knelt and bent an ear to the
keyhole, listening....

Not a sound: silence of the grave; the house deathly still. He could
hear his own heart drumming; but, from Shaynon's flat, nothing....

Or--was that the creak of a board beneath a stealthy footstep?

If so, it wasn't repeated....

Again, could it be possible his ears did actually detect a sound of
human respiration through the keyhole? Was Bayard Shaynon just the
other side of that inch-wide pressed-steel barrier, the fire-proof
door, cowering in throes of some paralysing fright, afraid to answer
the summons?...

If so, why? What did he fear? The police, perhaps? And if so--why?
What crime had become his so to unman him that he dared not open and
put his fate to the test?...

Quickly there took shape in the imagination of the little Irishman a
hideous vision of mortal Fear, wild-eyed, white-lipped, and all
a-tremble, skulking in panic only a little beyond his reach: a fancy
that so worked upon his nerves that he himself seemed infected with
its shuddering dread, and thought to feel the fine hairs a-crawl on
his neck and scalp and his flesh a-creep.

When at length he rose and drew away it was with all stealth, as
though he too moved in the shadow of awful terror bred of a nameless
crime....

Once more at Peter Kenny's door, his diffident fingers evoked from the
bell but a single chirp--a sound that would by no means have gained
him admission had Peter not been sitting up in bed, reading to while
away the ache of his wound.

But it was ordered so; Peter was quick to answer the door; and P.
Sybarite, pulling himself together (now that he had audience critical
of his demeanour) walked in with a very tolerable swagger--with a
careless, good-humoured nod for his host and a quick look round the
room to make certain they were alone.

"Doctor been?"

"Oh--an hour ago."

"And--?"

"Says I'm all right if blood-poisoning doesn't set in."

Shutting the door, Peter grinned not altogether happily. "That's one
of the most fetching features of the new